The doors were wide open... When I was not there...
They were always closed when I am there...
Glass buds in delicate blue, green.. I see red when the doors were opened...
Am I a paranoid?
What are that which related to doors being opened...
Are there footsteps a while ago... petty ones, not of the fairies, goblins and what not creatures?
Not even solid paws of domestic pets, but real gentle pretty toes, washed and polished much, like the foot which wore glass heels, which I knew nothing of...
What is there to lose, that I have tried throwing myself into the well which is so tiny that my leg was stuck... pulled out, unsatisfactory result... with green slimy moss cling to the nails...
Is there not any time spared... No time for me to heave a breath of silent contentment...
in this mad and changing world...
What is there to hide actually...
I knew not from the anglic features of the stone statue...
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